Road Trip
by egbkid
Summary: it's 2040, and Max and Logan's daughter is travilling across America, running from her past. (mild swearing; formerly 'Cale')unfinished
1. musings

'Keep moving it will all go away. The faster you go, the faster the pain will flow out of you. Keep moving, and never look back.'  
  
~~  
  
Life is tough, then you die. That's what someone once told me. Thirty-some odd years ago, long before I was born, terrorists hit America with an electromagnetic pulse. Fried all the computers, the 'united' States were gone, and left a third world country called America. I was born into this about ten years later and dropped on my father's doorstep by my mother. It wasn't like it was a bad deal, though. My father was loaded, compared to my mother, who was a genetically engineered super solider on the run from a covert government agency called Manticore. Great life, huh? Compared to other kids, though, my early childhood was like a dream. After the Pulse, America went into another great depression. Life wasn't much for most, and while my daddy was trying to be both parents to me, my mother was spying on us, making sure I was safe from my uncle, making sure I was happy.  
  
~~  
  
So, here I am on the open road, riding my mom's bike, a Ninja, across America, trying to forget all the memories. I try to forget both the good and bad memories, because if I remember the good ones, sooner or later I'll start remembering the bad ones, too.  
  
~~  
  
I am the same age my mom was when I was born. Her mom was the same age, way back in the first year of the new millennium. But they were prisoners, of a place called Manticore. When my mom was nine, she escaped that place. She used to tell me about it when I was a teenager. The way they were trained to be solders, taught that emotion was a weakness. She told me about the nomalies in the basement and the doctors who did tests on them to make them better solders. A few years later, I had nightmares about that place, as if it had been me there instead of her.  
  
~~  
  
Every once in a while, I have to stop, for gas, food, sleep. I didn't get my mother's gene for not needing sleep, would've been nice though. I did develop her likeness for thinking in high places. Scared the shit out of my father once when I was five and climbed the roof of his uncle's cabin. Then there was the time mom took me up on top of the Space Needle. He freaked. No! I gotta stop remembering those things. They may be good memories, but they lead to bad. Like I mentioned, once in a while I gotta stop, usually at some seedy hotel. There's no such thing as a nice hotel.  
  
~~  
  
My full name is McKenzie Alexandria Guevara-Cale. My father was Logan Cale, my mother Max Guevara. I never knew my grandparents. The only family I knew was my father's cousins; they were mostly stuck up snobs. I knew two of my mother's siblings. They aren't real brothers and sisters; they just say they are because they all come from that place. I lived with my aunt Jace and her son for five years when my uncle Zack kidnapped me, saying I was safer near him and away from my father. I don't know what he had against him. While I was at aunt Jace's, they called me Meiying Aneko, but that was because their name was McKenzie. I was given an aunt's last name and the name of a hotel/restaurant in LA. What a way to name your kid.  
  
~~  
  
I've been on the road for about three months now. That's a lot of seedy hotels. If my parents knew… It's getting dark, time to pull into another small town, find another hotel, knock out anyone else who tries to hit on me, get some food, gas and sleep.  
  
~~~ 


	2. shopping

There's no such thing as a nice hotel in Post Pulse America. Even now, thirty years later, the effects are still hanging around. At least the economy isn't in a downslide. Right now, we're sort of at a plateau. There are jobs, but not enough for everyone. There is money, and most people have some, but not a lot. But at least there are a lot less people on the street than there were when I was a kid. I guess these small towns are different, though. Everyone stares at you, especially when you come roaring through on a black motorbike. I always do the same thing when I enter a town, find the nearest hotel as quickly as I can, check in and park my bike in the room, adding a little security feature in case someone gets greedy. Just a little something I found on my dad's computer. Then I check out the local store. They're always the same. If it's not a little mom and pop place, it's some dirty teenager with a rifle under the counter. Unfortunately, this one's the latter. Sometimes the teenagers are whiny, and when they see me dressed in bikers' leather, they start asking questions, like 'where's your bike' and 'can I see it.' The answer is always no. No one touches my bike but me. Then there are the idiots who think they're cool and try to hit on me. Right, like that's ever going to happen.  
  
~~  
  
I step into the store and scope it out. Prepackaged food closer to the door, more expensive items on the far wall. Whoever planned this store was smart. The teen at the counter barely looks up from his comic. Good. I grab a basket and start walking down the first of five isles. There's the usual stuff, boxes of macaroni and cheese, cans of pasta. Yuck. I grab one of the boxes anyway. My dad taught me how to make gourmet food out of simple things. The next isle has basic staples. I grab a package of bagels, they're just as good as bread, but don't squish as easy. I was almost out of peanut butter, so I grab a jar of it. The center of the store is a giant cooler. From here, I grab a bottle of water and one of soda, I stop to think about the prepackaged sandwiches, but change my mind when I see something green in one of them. I grab a small carton of milk instead. The ice cream looks good, but there is no way for me to carry it on the bike, so I leave it behind. I look at the frozen microwave dinners, but there are no good ones. They are the easiest to cook over a campfire, because all you are doing is basically thawing them out. At the very bottom of the pile, there is a sweet and sour chicken one. After checking the expiry date, I put it in my basket. Not my favorite, but it will do. I also pick up a package of hot dogs, the only meat that looks edible. The last two isles look like they are filled with practical stuff. I need a bottle of shampoo, so this is where I get it. At the back of the store is a small produce section. A lot of it looks gross, but I manage to get an ok looking red pepper, a couple of apples, my favorite, and a prepackaged stir-fry kit. Hot dogs make a good stir-fry in an emergency. Walking up to the front of the store, I grab a small jar of pickles and a box of instant oatmeal, also easy to prepare over a campfire if need be. At the counter, I pick up two chocolate bars, a box of matches and a magazine. There is a pile of CDs, but nothing good that I don't already have. When I set my basket on the counter, the kid doesn't look up from his comic. I pick it up and thump it a little harder. He looks up annoyed then starts ringing in my stuff. Not going fast enough, I give him a look and he speeds up, a little. The total comes to close to thirty dollars, so I drop three tens on the counter. He looks even more annoyed that I didn't put them into his hand, so I give him an even worse look, he quickly gives me my change, bags my purchases, and I blaze out of there. Dumb-ass.  
  
~~~ 


	3. dreaming

~~~  
  
I'm dreaming, I hate dreaming, to many memories…  
  
"Hey Dad, can I get my license?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Driver's license, silly."  
  
"Well, you need a learner's permit first."  
  
"Well, can I get my learner's permit?"  
  
"You have to be sixteen."  
  
"I'll be sixteen the day after tomorrow!"  
  
~I see a bright light, it's unusually quiet.~  
  
"Daddy, why don't you want me to sit on the roof to think? It's not to high, I'm not scared."  
  
~the light goes out, I hear a noise behind me, turn and see Rory~  
  
"Take me with you. I want to go to Seattle too!"  
  
~Rory disappears. I see a calendar that says September 2o36, between Bling and Cindy.~  
  
"What's wrong, Bling? Cindy, why are you crying?"  
  
"We need you to come with us, down the hall…"  
  
~they disappear, it is dark. I can hear crying, though.~  
  
"Cindy, why are you crying?"  
  
~A gunshot rings out, but I don't know where it comes from, because it is to dark.~  
  
"What's wrong Bling?  
  
~Another gunshot~  
  
I sit up quickly, breathing heavily. The memories are quickly fading away, but not quickly enough. I hear the rain outside. I hate waking up to the rain, too much like Seattle, and I hate getting wet when I drive. I get up and quickly shower and dress. Another hotel that doesn't believe in hot water or heaters in the rooms. God, it's cold in here. Ever hear the expression 'someone is walking over my grave?' that's the feeling I have. I quickly leave the hotel after settling my bill, not even bothering with breakfast. I think I'll spend tonight in my tent if it stops raining.  
  
~~  
  
I glance at my watch, barely taking my eyes off the road. It has almost stopped raining, and it's five, time to stop for dinner, since I didn't have breakfast, I'm starving. I'm traveling through a small forest, so I stop and go off the road. I build a small fire and start to boil some of the water from the bottle I bought yesterday. When it boils I add the macaroni and cheese. While it is cooking, I cut up some hotdogs, part of the pepper and some of the pickles, adding them when it I cooked. To my meal, I add a mug full of soda. After I'm done eating, I have to set up the tent. Since it's getting dark and I am really tired, I set the alarm on my bike and crawl into the tent to write some letters and sleep.  
  
~~~ 


	4. letters home

~~~  
  
Bling:  
  
Hey. So far everything is going good. Another cheep hotel in another tiny town. Hey, but it's a life. I'm having a blast, 'cept for the frequent hits I'm getting from dumb nerdy teenagers in stores. No, you don't have to come after them, I can deal. I only had to kick one ass. Thanks for teaching me how. Anyway, I'm in Clarksville, it's at the borders of Kentucky and Tennessee. Nice town. Not as nice as New York, though. It's like the depression is almost over there, not like at home. Speaking of which, how's everything going at home? I'm just putting along, trying not to remember what happened…everything is working out as best as it can.  
  
See ya later,  
  
MAGC  
  
~~  
  
Cindy:  
  
Hey, boo!  
  
What' up? Hope Normal's not giving you hard times again. Sketchy being good? Didn't think so. You should see some of the dumb-asses hittin' on me! Makes one want to switch to the other team (sorry, no such luck, boo!) Made it clear across the country, saw New York. Nice. Now I'm in another tiny town, on our way back, just me an' mom's baby. We both miss you, we'll be back soon,  
  
Until then,  
  
Your little boo,  
  
MAGC  
  
~~  
  
Rory:  
  
Hello, again. How is everything going? The family ok? Good. I'm sorry I took off so fast without saying a proper good bye. Soon enough, we'll see each other again. I miss the city, I'm mostly staying in small towns. I miss everyone, too.  
  
Hope to see you all soon,  
  
Your friend,  
  
'MAC'  
  
~~~ 


	5. next town

~~~  
  
The next morning, I rekindle the fire and cook myself some oatmeal, kinda getting tired of that shit, and I wish I could stop burning the bagels I try and toast. 'Face it, kid, you just don't have your daddy's culinary skills' I think while eating another burnt bagel. Yuck. But, it's food. At least I wasn't woke up by nightmares this morning. I roll up my tent and get back on my bike, taking off on the tiny road through the woods.  
  
~~  
  
After riding an hour, I came upon another small town, this time it has guards posted at the entrance. Hopefully, they will give me little guff. I could kick their asses, my Godfather, Bling, taught me a lot about how to protect myself. And I thank him every day because of it. My mom wanted to teach me early on how to fight, but dad wouldn't let her, I guess he didn't want me to be too much like her. Sorry, daddy. I approached the guard who looked like he was in charge. I stopped my bike, but didn't turn it off, so he had to yell over the engine. He asked me where I was going and how long I was planning on staying. I not so politely said hi I was just passing through, then I gave him a 'leave me alone or I'll kick your ass' look. He let me by. Dumbass. It took me all of twenty minutes to drive through the town, and just outside I headed somewhat North towards Washington State and home.  
  
~~  
  
Every once in a while, I have to write letters home, one to my mom's best friend Original Cindy, and one to my God father, Bling. I wrote my childhood best friend, Rory, once. Because I didn't tell him I was leaving. I don't write letters to anyone else I knew in school because during my last few years, I didn't have any friends. As for my parents, I don't write them, either. I can't. They died the day of my sixteenth birthday.  
  
~~~ 


	6. my past

~~~  
  
It's been four years. Four long years since that terrible day. We were supposed to go to Canada for my birthday and for their honeymoon. They hadn't been married more than twenty-four hours. It was a beautiful wedding, and for me, the opportunity of a lifetime to travel and see a whole other country, one that hadn't been affected by the Pulse like we had. It's hard to think about…  
  
~~  
  
The next day, I was pulled out of my parents' penthouse in the sky, and dropped into my Godfather's two-bedroom apartment in another sector. It's not like it should have been a major life-altering situation, because I basically grew up with my Godfather. Most days, he would be at our house, or I at his. But I made it into a life-altering situation…  
  
~~  
  
I never got to Canada, yet anyway. I guess you need lots of clearances to get across the border. I ain't got them. My dad had all the connections we needed to get into the country. He knew lots of people, and lots of people knew him. Everyone was willing to help him, too, because he was a friend of Eyes Only. Eyes Only was a cyber hacker back when I was a kid. No one knows who he was, but he had a lot of enemies. He would interrupt the cable shows to broadcast minute long pieces about what was happening in the corrupt government. Nobody but the everyday grunts liked him, and nobody knows where he went. He just stopped broadcasting. Probably someone found out who he was and 'disappeared' him like everyone else who crossed the government. I went with my dad on an Eyes Only mission once. All he did was go to a restaurant and talk to Rory's dad, he's a cop. It was boring.  
  
~~  
  
I don't remember much about that day, the day my parents died. I remember packing for the trip, and I remember going to the airport, but I don't remember anything between then and when Bling and Cindy were at the hospital with me. In my nightmares, I hear gunshots, but I don't really know how they died. I can't remember that, either. And no one would tell me. They thought it would be better for me to remember by myself. Right. That's what got me here, on the road, a million miles from home.  
  
~~  
  
I left Seattle two days after my twentieth birthday. The nightmares were getting worse, so I packed a bag, took my mom's bike from Cindy's apartment and took off. I called Bling when I got out of the state. It had taken me two days to get that far, and he was freaking. At that point I had lived with him for four years, he was almost as much a father to me as my father. But he would never be my father. I told him to cool down and that I'd see him in a bit. Just before I hung up, he said I was exactly like my mother was at my age. Right. I'll never be like her. She was a genetically engineered super soldier who escaped from the government. I am a twenty- year-old orphan on the run from my past.  
  
~~~ 


	7. tire change

~~~  
  
Bling;  
  
Merry Christmas, although by the time you get this, it is probably New Year's. I hope you are not alone this Christmas, you should spend it with Cindy, she could use the company. I bought you a present, but I don't want to send it in the mail, so I will give it to you when I get back. I am looking for a gift for Cindy, but it is hard to shop when there are only little stores here and there. I'll probably be home in about a month, but right now I'm trying to fight my daemon.  
  
Until later,  
  
MAGC  
  
~~  
  
Christmas hasn't been much for most people since the Pulse, although a lot of people still try to celebrate it because there ain't much else to celebrate. As for New Year's, everyone is out for that, it's the best excuse to get stone cold drunk. In two weeks it will be 2041. I won't be home by then, but I know what everyone will be doing. Mom's friend Sketchy will be drunker then drunk, but then he usually is drunk. Her friend Cindy will be at the bars trying to pick someone up, and Bling will be sitting at home. He always sits at home, although when I was a kid, he sometimes would come to our apartment and celebrate with us. We would stay up to midnight watching movies, usually Pre-Pulse, and dad and mom usually cracked a bottle of wine. At about eleven o clock, dad and Bling would go into the kitchen and make mom and me a gourmet meal. Mom wasn't much of a cook. Shortly after midnight, we would sit down to a beautiful meal, then we would just have fun for the next few hours, and sit up to watch the sun rise. Then we would all go to bed for a few hours since none of us had to go anywhere. But those are good memories, and I don't really want to remember the good memories, because, like I said before, they lead to the bad memories.  
  
~~  
  
"Aggggggggrrrrrrraaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" I am on the side of the road, a million miles from nowhere, with a flat tire. It's at least a four hour drive to the next town, and there's no guarantee that there's tire shop there. I pull out my map and check to see if somehow there may be a closer town. No such luck. After putting it away and checking everything, I grab the bike and start walking.  
  
~~  
  
It seems like I have been walking forever, but it has actually only been about three hours. Three long, drudging hours, and according to my map, I will probably be walking another three. Ugh. It's not like I don't like walking, but dragging this heavy bike around for six hours isn't my idea of fun. I haven't seen another person since before I started walking. I step off to the side of the road to take a drink and rest a few minutes, but it is getting dark, so I can't rest to long.  
  
~~  
  
Three and a half hours later I walk into a small town. It is very small, there may not even be a hotel here, but I start walking up the street to look for one. There is a small diner, though, realizing I am extremely hungry and haven't had anything since breakfast. I park my bike outside the diner, set the alarm and go in. There are a few tables scattered around, and six stools along the counter. Here and there, a few people sat. Locals probably. I sat at the counter, and a ditzy waitress about my age came over, dropping a menu in front of me. Other than that, she ignored me, keeping her eyes on a young guy who sat on another stool, batting her eyelashes and giggling. Great, now I'm never going to get any food. I glance at the menu. The usual stuff, hamburgers, fries, there are a few actual meals, but I wouldn't want to risk them. The safest thing looks like the hamburger and fries, so I decide on that, throwing the menu down on the counter in front of me, hoping she'd get the hint. It took over five minutes for her to notice me again, and I was about to holler at her. She's lucky. When my food finally arrived, it was greasy, kind of gross, but like I said, I was extremely hungry and there was no other choice. The fries were alright if you doused them in enough ketchup. My dad once told me about a chain of hamburger places, they once had about ten in every city, and you couldn't go a block without running into one. He also said that no matter which one you went to, you always were guaranteed the same type of food and quick service. He said they had the best fries he ever had, and ate there all the time when he was a teenager. To bad they didn't have places like that now, at least then no matter what town I was in I would know what I was eating. Getting the ditz's attention again, I paid for my half-ass meal and asked her if there was a hotel around. She told me to go down two blocks and I would find one. Man, I'm glad I wasn't looking for a ritzy hotel. It didn't cost a whole lot for the night, but then there wasn't a whole lot to pay for. But there was no alternative, so I got a room until morning when I can get the Ninja fixed.  
  
~~  
  
What a dick the mechanic is. He thinks that just because I am a girl, I know sweet dick shit about anything with a motor. Boy did he make the wrong assumption. My mom taught me a lot about how to take care of vehicles, especially this one. This bike was one of her favorite objects on the planet, so she kept really good care of it. My dad had a huge funny looking blue car called an Aztec, she taught me to take care of it, too. Anyway, the mechanic thought he could pull one over on me by telling me the bike needed this, that and the other thing. Bull shit. Except for the tire, this bike has never been in better shape. Since he wanted to keep my bike to look at, I bought the tire and changed it myself, in the front parking lot of the hotel across the street from the auto shop.  
  
~~ 


	8. another dream

Kansas City. It's not even in Kansas. I was told that back in the day, the state of Kansas was all farm and stuff. I've never seen a farm. Right now, I'm going through Kansas City, Missouri. It's lunchtime; I'm hoping to make it to New Kansas by dinnertime. I've also been told that New Kansas was once called Kansas City too. Why would they give two cities the same name? Weird. I guess I'm staying in New Kansas tonight. Big city, may have a nice hotel or two. Doubtful.  
  
~~  
  
I'm dreaming again. I hate dreaming…  
  
~I'm walking through a huge grassy green field, I don't know where it is, though, because I have never seen anything like it.~  
  
"Where am I?" I yell.  
  
~for some reason, I am suddenly in the foyer of Foggle Towers, where I grew up. I walk towards the elevator and take it up to the penthouse.~  
  
"Mama? Daddy? Where are you?  
  
~I run through the apartment, looking for my parents. In the kitchen, I see a calendar, it says September 2o36. I run and tear it off the wall, from behind me I hear someone crying.~  
  
"Who's there? Mama? Daddy? Is that you?"  
  
~I run back through the penthouse, looking in every room, but I still can't find anyone. The lights go out.~  
  
"Another brownout, where are the candles?"  
  
~I can still hear crying, but now I am searching through drawers for a few candles. It's getting darker fast. The crying gets louder.~  
  
"Who is crying?"  
  
~I look around, but it is completely dark. The apartment is gone; I am alone in a dark room with no walls. Suddenly, the crying stops, and I hear a voice.~  
  
"McKenzie, baby, it's alright."  
  
"Daddy? Where are you, it's so dark!"  
  
"Don't be afraid, baby…"  
  
"But daddy…"  
  
~the lights flare, I can't see, it's so bright. I fall to the floor and start crying.~  
  
"Daddy, Mama, where are you. Please, come back, I miss you! Daddy! Mama!"  
  
"Daddy…Mama…"  
  
~~  
  
I woke up with tears in my eyes, but not remembering what my dream was about. I hate dreaming…  
  
~~~ 


	9. phone home

~~~  
  
I am just cutting through the corner of Kansas, heading almost straight through the middle of Nebraska. I missed Nebraska when I was heading east, so I've never been there before. I will nick South Dakota, then cut through Wyoming. I wish I could somehow avoid Wyoming, because that is where that place is. Where my mom was created. I don't want to go through that state, but I have to in order to get home, unless I take a long detour. I will try to spend only one or two days in that state. I would have liked to go south and check out Texas, but they aren't part of the country anymore, and you need lots of clearance to get across that border, too. Face it; this country went to Hell in a hand basket over thirty years ago with the Pulse.  
  
~~  
  
I'm just inside the Nebraska border, about to cross over into South Dakota for the night. It's nine pm, and I am calling Bling. When I originally called him two days after I took off, he tried to make me promise to call him every day. I told him no deal, so he offered once a week. I promised I would try to call once a week, but no guarantees. It's been almost three weeks since I called him last, and he is probably freaking. He picked up on the first ring. So what do you say to a man who it so totally pissed at you that he starts hollering the second he hears your voice. I told him to cool it, I'm sorry and I'd call him tomorrow, then I hung up.  
  
~~  
  
When I call him the next night, Bling has calmed down considerably. He didn't start hollering at me right away. He waited about two minutes for me to explain why I hadn't called in three weeks, and then he started hollering at me. Like I said, he's almost like my father. Almost. My father was very overprotective of me, and my mother too, but Bling is ten times more overprotective. After calming him down, we talked for a good ten minutes before I had to hang up, promising to call again in a few days. It was when I was walking back to my hotel room from the phone booth that I noticed my cheeks were wet, I was crying. I guess I miss everyone back home. Even though I still haven't dealt with my nightmares, I can't wait to get home, back to my own bedroom in Bling's tiny apartment. It will only be a few more weeks.  
  
~~  
  
I hate sector police. I hate sector checkpoints. I can't get in or out any city without dealing with the police. And now, they're giving me a fight. I have just hotfooted it through Wyoming without sleeping, I am very tired, and very cranky, and trying to get into a city called Driggs. Of course, the police are giving me grief, I have been sitting here almost an hour, they've checked my ID three times, and now I'm giving them Bling's number, because he is my legal guardian until I am twenty one. Some of America's Pre-Pulse laws still exist. I hate the one about not being an adult until you're twenty-one. Seven more months, then I'll be legal. Until then, the police have to call Bling whenever they don't like the look of me. But anyway, the police are finally letting me go. I take off as fast as I can, giving them the finger as I drive away. Finding a hotel was easy, it only took me ten minutes, ten more and I was checked in and in bed. I crashed hard. Dreaming within seconds…  
  
~ 


	10. that day

~I am in the penthouse. It has been so long, over four years. I miss the place, I walk down the hall to my bedroom, and everything is like it was when I was last there. My cell phone is on my desk, so is my homework. The bed is unmade, like I just crawled out of it, but then, I never make my bed. On my bookshelf are all my stuffed animals; my favorites are a blue donkey my father gave me for my third birthday, and a large bunny that Bling gave me as a baby. I walk out of my room and into my mother's. It is black, the bedding, the curtains, but it makes it look elegant with the white walls. From her window, you can see the Space Needle, her favorite place. I walk across the hall to my father's room; his laptop sits open on his dresser, his cell phone and glasses on the nightstand, along with a book. I look at the book; it is the one he uses to write poetry in. He told me once it was a gift from his mother before she died. I open it up, there is an inscription on the inside, but I can't read it, it is blurry. I set the book on his bed and leave the room, walking down the hall to the living room, over to the stereo. I pick my father's favorite CD from the pile beside the stereo and put in on. Jean Sibilus' Valse Triste comes out of the speakers set around the room. I press a button on the stereo; I don't know what it is, though, because the word written on it is worn away. Listening to the music, I make my way into my father's office. There is a huge computer system set up there, I used to play games on it when I was a kid, I never knew what he used it for. I turn it on, but then leave because I here a noise in the other room. There is no one in the living room, so I continue onto the kitchen. No one is there, either. I must be hearing things. Looking around the kitchen, I see the vase that my mother kept on the table; she would refresh the flowers every week, but there are none in it now. I step over to the stove, there is a frying pan sitting on it, as well as a pot. I am hungry, so I look in the fridge. There is only a bottle of water, so I fill the pot, then look in the cupboards for something to cook. All I find are dishes and a box of cereal. I fill a bowl and eat a few spoonfuls, but it is to dry without milk, so I stop eating. The music from the other room is flowing around me, good thing the walls are soundproofed, or the neighbors might get bitchy. I hear a noise from the living room again, so I go to check it out. As soon as I step through the door from the kitchen to the living room, the music stops. Wait. I'm not in my living room; I'm in Bling's. He is sitting on the couch; something is in his hands. I step closer to him to see what it is; he is oblivious to my presence. It is a picture, of my parents and me. I remember that day; I was seven. Bling took the picture, so Mama and daddy let him have a copy of it. It was usually on the wall, along with about ten more pictures of me, he said it was so everyone could see his beautiful Goddaughter the second they stepped into the room. I notice something on the glass, it's wet. Then I realize Bling is crying. I turn and run out the living room door, hoping to go back to the penthouse, but I am not so lucky. Even though I ran through the door that leads to the kitchen, I end up in my bedroom. I sit on the bed and look around. None of my favorite things are here. My desk has a television on it, with a DVD player attached, Bling gave me those for my seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays, and my gift for my nineteenth was a laptop, which sits on a chair. When I left the penthouse four years ago, I brought nothing with me but what was in my suitcase for Canada. We were in such a rush that day all I had were clothes. I had forgotten my donkey. I stand up and walk over to my desk. Digging through one of the drawers, I find my old diary, I sit on the bed again and open it up. I stopped writing in it almost a month before I took off, I used to write whatever I remembered about that day, but when the nightmares stared getting worse, I couldn't bear to write them down. I open the book and look at the writing. I know what it says, but I am unable to read it because it is so blurry. It says 'September 2o36. McKenzie Guevara-Cale's trip to Canada' I take the book and throw it across the room; it hits the wall beside the window and slides to the floor. I hear someone running from the next room, it's Bling. I try to say his name as he stands in the door, but he doesn't hear me, as he steps into the room, it gets dark. I can't see anything. I take a step fore ward, but can't see where I am going. Taking another step, I run into something, almost falling. Suddenly, I'm in an airport, it's my father I ran into. He turns and smiles at me. I say something to him, but I can't hear my voice. His smile broadens and he points to one of the lines. My mother is at the front of the line, arguing with the guy behind the counter. I remember, we had problems with our tickets, and my mom tried to get it fixed, when the guy wouldn't comply, she got angry. 'But what happened next?' I wonder. Dad says something to me, I see his mouth move, but I don't hear anything. I nod and he moves away from me, making his way towards my mother. Looking around me, I see lots of people, there is a huge window behind me, I can see the planes, one of them has a maple leaf on the side, it is probably the one we are going to take to Canada. An excited feeling rushes over me. I can suddenly hear again, I hear people talking, loudspeakers announcing flights, the drone of a plane taking off. I turn, looking around some more, and I see Bling and mom's friend Cindy coming towards me. Cindy's arms are outstretched; she pulls me into a hug. Bling asks me something, but I can't make it out, it's garbled. Somehow, I understand, and point to my parents. He goes over to them, talks for a few minutes, and then walks back to Cindy and me. He picks up two of the suitcases at my feet, Cindy grabs another and I pick up our carry on bags, we are going to the terminal to wait for my parents. Bling and Cindy help me check in our luggage, then we go to the terminal with the carry-on luggage, I give them one last hug, and then go through the metal detector. The terminal is really just a large glassed-in waiting room, so I sit in a seat by the glass wall and Cindy and I make faces at each other while Bling goes to find my mom and dad to show them where the terminal is. It's not hard to find, but he thinks they may get lost because the airport is crowded today. I have a really weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I see Bling walking back to us; he taps Cindy on the shoulder, startling her. She turns her back to me and they talk a few minutes, but I can't hear what they are saying because of the glass between us. Where are my parents? Bling leaves again with a worried look on his face, Cindy turns back to face me again, she has a huge fake grin on her face. Whatever she's hiding, I ain't buying it. Suddenly, the glass between us shatters, Cindy dives towards me and we both land on the floor hard, but I hit my head on a chair going down. I hear gunshots in the distance, from over near he ticket counters. "Surely Mama and Daddy have gotten out of there by now," I think, "but where's Bling?" then I black out.~ 


	11. next town

I sit bolt upright. The memories of my dream are fading quickly, but the one of Cindy diving towards me and us hitting the floor remains strong. I quickly get out of bed and shower, and then I take off without eating, without settling the bill. Glancing at my watch, I realize I slept for six hours, that was a long dream, and there was so much in it. A few tendrils come sneaking back to me. I don't want any more dreams like that; they are too painful. So I keep driving and driving, stopping only for food. It is going to take me a few days to get across Idaho, though; there are lots of police checkpoints.  
  
~~  
  
Moscow, Idaho. Named after a huge city in Old Russia. Let me tell you about Russia. A lot has happened to that country since the Pulse, a lot of it in my own lifetime. I guess back in the day it was one of the poorer countries or something. Once the Pulse hit, America was stopped in its tracks, so most of the other countries were able to grow. There were a few small civil wars over there from the time of the Pulse until just after I was born, then all the people got smart and decided to separate, so in 2o22 Old Russia and New Russia came to be. And to make it easier, they sliced her right in half at the 1oo degree longitude line. But anyway, Moscow, Idaho is where I pull up because I am so tired I can barely stay upright on my bike, so I find a small hotel, check in and crash, praying I will not dream like last time. Guess I'm not so lucky…  
  
I wake up to Cindy shaking me really hard; I was only out a few minutes by my watch. There are about twenty people on the floor with Cindy and me. From a distance, we can hear gunshots and shouting. I'm scared, where are my parents? Where is Bling? I start to ask Cindy these questions, but she shushes me. The sounds of the guns stop, but the shouting continues. What's that on my face? I put my hand to my forehead. Bringing it down, I see blood. 'Probably from when I hit my head on the chair.' I think. It doesn't seem to be bleeding to bad, so I let it be. I keep checking my watch, it's been half an hour, and I can hear sirens. Checking my watch again, I see almost forty-five minutes have passed, and I can hear someone shouting close by, Cindy yells out to the person. It's Bling! He's all right! That's when I realize there are a few things on top of me. Bling pulls a piece of one of the tables off of me, moves a chair aside, then grabs my hand to help me up. The second I am standing, I blackout again, barely feeling Bling's and Cindy's hands as they catch me on my way back to the floor…  
  
~~  
  
"Is she aiight?"  
  
"I'm not fully sure yet, she may have a concussion, we'll have to keep her for observation…"  
  
"I don't care about your observations, I just wanna know if my little boo'll be aiight!"  
  
"Calm down, the doctor said they'll keep an eye on her. As for us, we have other things to worry about. Come on."  
  
'What are they talking about? What do they have to take care of? And where are my parents?' I want to shout the questions out loud, but I'm so tired, I can't move. God, I can't even open my eyes, everything hurts so much. What happened? Why am I here?  
  
~~  
  
I open my eyes, glancing around. I hear someone breathing from beside me, so I turn my head to see who it is. SHIT, that hurts…  
  
~~  
  
The pain wakes me up. I remember it was Cindy in the chair beside my bed and she had fallen asleep. I would soon find out that I had spent the last six hours asleep myself. And that I would never see my parents again…  
  
~~~ 


	12. home state

~~~ Back on the road, traveling through my home state. Not where I was born, though, that was at my Aunt Jace's down near Mexico. I can't wait to get home; it will be a matter of days, if that. As I travel, I think of the dreams I've had the last two times I slept. I'm starting to remember the first one, and the second I never forgot. I wonder why the airport was attacked, that is, if my dream was accurate. I don't remember hearing anything on the news about the airport going down, but then I was pretty absorbed in my own grief those days. I think I'll look it up in the library. Shit, haven't been there in a long time, don't even know if I can remember how to look things up. ~~ I pull up in front of the building. It hasn't changed much. I glance up at the third floor windows; the lights are off, no one is home. Good. I go around back to the parking garage, park the bike and set the alarm, then go upstairs. I had been right; no one is home. I immediately go to the bathroom and take a long, hot shower. It is the first hot shower I've had in a long time. After getting dressed, I crash. ~~ Four hours later, I wake up without dreaming. Good. I get up and look around the room; nothing has changed. I walk out into the hallway, the pictures on the walls are all the same, and so is the clock at the end. It says it is twenty after one. Good, I have lots of time. I go back into the bedroom and get dressed, search for my keys, then grab an apple off the kitchen table on my way out the door. ~~ I remember coming here with my father when I was a kid, he loved to look at the old books; they had no pictures in them so at that time I didn't care. Now I go straight to the old news section and borrow a television for an hour after finding the newsreels from September 2o26. It is all on one DVD so I easily find the information from my birthday, then start watching. My dream was accurate. It showed security camera footage from inside the airport, there is a camera pointed at the ticket counters. It pans over the six counters, I can see my mother at one of them, arguing with the man behind the counter, daddy is beside her, his hand on her arm, trying to calm her down. It must be from after Cindy and Bling took me to the terminal. I fast-forward a ways, the newscaster comes back on, talking, so I stop and listen to what she has to say. She says the police believe it was a planned attack, and are still looking for the culprits. I fast forward to the next day's footage. A lot of it is new stuff, but near the end, I find some more about the airport. The lady comes back on, saying the police still haven't any suspects in the case, and it shows a picture of the airport after the attack. It looks terrible, the buildings glass windows shattered, walls crumbled. It even looks like one airplane was hit. The lady comes back on saying numbers of people hurt and killed, but I'm not paying attention. I can't believe the wreckage I saw. I keep fast- forwarding the DVD until the next days footage, and the next, put there is nothing more on the airport. ~~ After returning the DVD to the librarian, I have one more place to go before I return mom's bike to Cindy. Cutting across the city, I easily get past the sector cops to sector five. I pull up in front of the building. I look up at the building and take a deep breath, working up my courage. Finally, I step off the bike and walk into the parking garage, set the alarm and walk to the elevator. In the elevator, I take another deep breath, then slide the key pass in the elevator and press the penthouse button. ~~~ 


	13. penthouse

~~~ I step out of the elevator. More nervous than I have ever been in my life. I almost knock on the door, but then I remember there is no one there. I slip the key into the lock and turn until it clicks, then swing the door open. Another deep breath and I step into the apartment that I have not been in for over four years. I stop inside the door and let it close behind me, looking around I realize nothing has changed since I was last here. Over a chair that sits beside me, is draped my leather jacket. I had forgotten about that, it was my favorite. I'm too nervous to go any further than the foyer. It's been so long. The paintings on the walls are the same; even the fish tank still sits in the corner. I went through ten fish in a month, so we gave up and left the tank in the corner as a decoration. A pair of my mom's shoes lay on the floor beside me. It is the pair she wore that day before we left. It had been raining when she and dad packed our suitcases in the car, I can see wet stains on the carpet where he went across after forgetting something in the other room. Mom hollered at him for that. Finally, I take a few steps forward into the apartment, through the door that leads to the kitchen. Once again, everything is as I remember it. There are even a few dishes in the drainer, ready to be put away. I put them away in the cupboards that they belong, then look in the fridge. There is nothing in it but a jar of peanut butter. Then I remember my parents had everything unplugged in case of a brown out while we were away. They didn't want anything to go bad, so we ate or gave away all the perishable foods. I look in the food cupboard; there is a box of cereal and a few jars of homemade jam. I remember helping daddy look for the berries in South Market, when we couldn't find any, we had to go to uncle's cabin and pick some wild strawberries. We took Cindy and Bling with us and made it a weekend. When we came back home, daddy taught me how to make jam. I haven't had any of it in so long, it probably isn't any good by now. I take the jars out of the cupboard and throw them into the garbage can under the sink, and then I move on to the next room. The living room. It was always my favorite room, because of the floor to ceiling windows; you could see most of Seattle from there. Daddy wouldn't let me sit on the roof to think, so this was the closest I got to thinking in a high place. My mom would sit here sometimes too, but usually she went to the Space Needle when she wanted to think. Dad only sat and looked out the windows when it was raining. He was afraid of heights and didn't like the view unless it was blurred by rain. I walk over to daddy's stereo system; a feeling of déjà vu comes over me as I flip through his stack of his favorite CDs. Then I remember the dream I had while I was on the road, I did this during it. I pick up his absolute favorite, Sibilus, and place it in the stereo, hoping it still works, and then I plug in the machine in and press play. It works; I skip titles on the disk until it comes to the track that plays Valse Triste. I hit the repeat button so the song will play over and over, and then I walk down the hall to my father's office. The computer is covered in clear plastic to keep the dust off while we were away. I pull it off, the dust tingling in my nose. The chair is pushed over in a corner, so I pull it over to the desk and try to get some dust off while the computer is booting. The computer is password protected, of course. My father was a very private guy, security was everything to him, probably because of my mother. I don't know the password, so I start trying. I try my mom's name, my name, everything that I can think of, but they don't work. I think for a few minutes, then I try my dad's birthday, my birthday. I think some more, the date I was dropped on his doorstep. Nope. As I think, I look at the calendar on the desk, the day we left is still there. I flip through the pages, thinking, when something red catches my eye. I flip back to that page, about a week ahead of where the calendar is. There is a giant heart on the page, and the number 2o2o is written there, as well as my mom's name. I jump, realizing what I just discovered, the day my parents first met! I type it into the computer, rearranging the numbers. Finally, the computer lets me access it. ~~~ 


End file.
